The Burial of Kouryuu
by WhiteAsh
Summary: I wanted to write about the span of time from when Kouryuu ran from Kinzan Temple up until he met with the Sanbutsushin and a bit beyond. Based on what I’ve learned about Sanzo from issue one until present.


_**The Burial of Kouryuu**_

**Title:** The Burial of Kouryuu

**Author/Artist:** WhiteAsh/GuardianYugi/Carolyn Steven

**Warnings:** Blood and gore, controversial issues.

**Pairing(s):** None.

**Notes:** I wanted to write about the span of time from when Kouryuu ran from Kinzan Temple up until he met with the Sanbutsushin and a bit beyond. Based on what I've learned about Sanzo from issue one until present.

**The Burial of Kouryuu**

My apprentice robes were unneeded from then on. I was no longer an apprentice. I donned a black robe in its stead. I'd come across it as I'd stopped in one village. After explaining to a local priest that I needed robes, and after he'd seen how less-than-accommodating my apprentice robes were, he gave me one. So I wore my jet black robes with my apprentice robes over top, tied around my shoulder were I'd torn them.

It had been five days since I left the temple. In that time I'd learned what it meant to become completely worthless. To become wretched. After obtaining my new robes and leaving the village, I realized I'd been followed by three men. One approached me and told me to hand over whatever money I had. I had no money, otherwise I would have bought food, so I refused, although my heart quickly rose to panic. He demanded again... so I turned and began running.

I didn't get far. My strength was at its limit and I tripped and fell heavily to the ground. I heard them approaching, one of them declaring that if I'd simply done what he said then I wouldn't be suffering. I leapt to my feet only to be knocked to the ground as he hit me. I did not move. I needed to conserve whatever strength I had.

My lungs heaved for breath as I coughed. A blinding pain hit me as my head was pulled up to his face by my hair. His breath reeked of alcohol and his body stunk of sweat. He was grinning at me in a way which sent ice water flooding through my veins. He said I was pretty; that I looked like a girl... a wave of terror washed through me. Disgust shook my body as he touched my bare legs. How could people be so vile? He spread my legs wide, looking into my robes. I wouldn't allow it to go any further...

The sound was the first thing. The sickening splatter of squelching chunks of brain fat and jagged skull fragments rained against my face, dripping with blood. I watched it all as if in a dream. A nightmare. I could see his entire eyeball, the covering of that part of his skull had been blown away. A single gunshot had done this. His body fell with a dull thump against the earth. His friends ran away.

His arm. His hand was still holding my leg. His touch was still warm and clammy. He still terrified me.

"L-Let me go."

He wouldn't.

"Let me go."

He didn't. I began to scream... and scream... and scream. I fired all four of the remaining bullets into the corpse, the spray of blood falling upon me like some sickening rain. I managed to get to my feet amidst the bloody spectacle... and I ran.

I'd never taken a life before... and now I couldn't escape the ghastly images before my mind's eye. No matter how far or fast I ran.

My body was in agony. I'd been running for ages, my muscles screaming for rest. My mind was a whirl of chaos amidst gunshots fired by my hands. I didn't care. After I took the first... the rest came all too easily. Eventually, it didn't matter at all. I was just trying to survive.

If it could be called survival, I don't know.

I stopped, finally, exhausted. Collapsing to the ground, the realization of the lives I'd taken finally stabbed right through my heart. Every single death. Every single cry of pain. I could smell it. Lifting my hands to my face I realized they were covered in blood... as was the rest of my body. My robes were torn from the bushes and filthy from the rain and mud I'd stumbled through.

And I was alone. So very alone. My heart felt like it was being crushed; every beat was a struggle. I felt a lump rise in my throat... and then madness took me.

It took me often enough, seizing me with fits. My body grew weak in the knees so I could no longer walk, then my mind seemed to hiss with the sound of nails down a chalkboard. In the midst of my madness I would scream nonsense and sob for what I'd lost and what I'd done.

It was one of these moments when I was attacked. I had just fallen to the ground, knowing I was being taken again by insanity's pull... when I heard the voices of people approaching me. Without even turning to look, I drew my gun and fired. The splatter of blood and a gurgling cry informed me that I'd killed one... then my mind went white as the rest of my sanity slipped away with the first ragged scream that pierced my throat.

When I awoke from madness I was still screaming. Screaming over and over in sobs of agonized misery. Nothing I could do would ever bring his smile back to me. Nothing I could ever do would allow me to be by his side in death. I was lost. I would die and be cast down. I would never see him again. I tore at my robes, threw rocks, dragged my nails down the trunks of trees, feeling the bark rip into the skin under them. Finally, exhausted and starving, I collapsed to the ground.

This was almost a daily occurrence in that godforsaken forest. I knew I had to get my master's sutra back... but each time I attempted to leave the forest I would be attacked again.

Again and again I was threatened with death. Again and again I spilled the blood of my foes. Finally, I made it into a town outside of the woods. As I stumbled through the streets I was bumped by a random passerby and I fell like a limp doll to the ground. I lay there, unmoving... anyone who walked by would have mistaken me for a corpse. I needed rest. Desperately. However, I managed to drag myself back to my feet and soon enough I found an inn.

All too soon I realized I had no means of paying for a room... that and a child wearing robes torn and stained with mud and blood wasn't the most desirable kind of person to have stay at the inn. I was turned away. What could I do? I stumbled out of the inn, a large growl rocked my entire body from the hunger in my empty stomach, and began walking. I found a small chipped bowl on the side of the street and realized I could beg.

I bit my lower lip. I never begged. I'd rather bite my tongue off and die than beg... but I needed my master's sutra returned... and I couldn't do that if I starved to death.

My throat was so raw from sobbing, screaming, and overall lack of talking that I'd almost forgotten how to speak. Finally, the words came together. I began saying simple prayers in the hopes of obtaining a means to stay at the inn. I no longer cared about food. I only wanted a place to sleep.

People began leaving me money. Some were outraged by the very sight of me. Others muttered amongst themselves about the possibility of my being human or not. As I begged, I heard rumors from the townspeople that there was a demon in the woods. Apparently, robbers and murderers who escaped into the woods never came out again if they met up with the demon. I listened. They spoke of hearing it roaring and screaming... I knew they meant me when I was trapped within a fit.

Finally, I'd made enough. I paid for a room at the inn, set down my belongings, and went to bathe first.

Water. No sooner had I touched my foot to the steaming surface than a chill had run up my spine. I lowered myself into that pool of wonderful heat and wondered if I could simply sleep there. I washed my body, the blood and mud and other grime washing away, turning the clear water to a filthy black within moments. Once I was finished I looked into a nearby mirror. My body was nothing but a skeleton wearing skin as a disguise.

I dried myself and headed to my room, collapsing onto the soft bed. But sleep wasn't kind to me.

No sooner had I closed my eyes then pain wracked my body, my throat ripped apart by a scream I barely recognized as my own. Madness. I'd been taken by a fit of madness. I thrashed about wildly, huffing and panting and groaning nonsense. My body screamed for rest, I screamed for death. Suddenly, my thrashing was stopped even through I struggled blindly. My screams finally caught in my throat, fading into groans and mutters... and the fit left me. I felt a hand on my forehead. I thought for one shining moment that my master had come to wake me up from a horrible nightmare so I could hold him in a tight hug and cry while he stroked my back. I wanted so badly for this one thought to be true.

Life wasn't fair. Life isn't fair. Life never will be fair.

It's simply life.

As my sanity fully returned I turned my head lazily to who was touching me. The owner of the inn had entered my room to calm me down during my episode. He'd held my arms down and waited while I'd calmed down. I looked away. He told me he was afraid the demons from the woods had attacked me judging from my cries. I was silent. He asked me if I was alright. I lied. Donning my robes, I began to leave. He asked me where I was going. I told him I had to leave his inn, that there was no place for me in it. He stopped me, telling me that I had to eat before leaving.

I stayed. I needed food and he was going to give me some for free. I'd been so weakened by my starvation that at times I'd resorted to eating grass... but even then, my body wouldn't hold it down and I'd retch horribly, as if in penance for even considering finding a means to stop the raging quakes voiced by my stomach. The food the inn keeper gave me seemed like a blessing... but in my idiotic haste I tried eating it too quickly. Having not eaten at all in six days or so, my body gagged and I threw up, not being able to eat at all.

The inn keeper helped me out of pity. He told me to take each bite slowly and to make certain I'd chewed thoroughly. I finally finished the meal, or at least a portion of it, and set off on my way again.

I'd not slept at all.

As I traveled through the village and finally out into the countryside I noticed I was being followed. My hands ached and I knew why. If I was being followed then that meant I would have to kill again. They might be innocent. They might not be. It no longer mattered. They were following me and I didn't like it. I stopped myself. I didn't want to spill anymore blood.

I ran. I still don't know how I managed to run, but I did.

After what seemed like hours I tripped and collapsed into the dirt. I lay there, panting and coughing, and I began to weep. I couldn't help it. I was a child and I couldn't pretend to be strong any longer. These weren't tears of madness like before... they were soft and hot upon my cheeks. One trailed down onto my lip and I licked it up, the salty taste simply leaving me feeling more thirsty.

I dragged myself to my feet and decided then that I wouldn't be a child anymore. I was young, yes, but I was strong too. I continued my journey with difficulty and that night I was granted sleep for a little while. An hour or two was all my body needed. A few bites of food, a sip of water, and an hour or two of sleep would sustain me for days.

It was in this manner that I continued my search for the sutra belonging to my master.

This was the pattern for four years of my life. Seventeen years in total had passed me by. I'd watched from the sidelines as my body grew and changed. My hair was wild, my eyes grew fierce, my body simply grew larger in frame, but not in muscle or in mass. I was a mockery among men. A bitter, pathetic creation with no past. As I walked through villages wearing a covering sewn from the clothing of those who'd attacked me, my face was unmoved by everything and touched by nothing.

My staff was my only company. Its rhythmic tapping and the sound of the metal rings hitting was almost hypnotic as it helped me walk. I didn't need to stand up straight, my slouch seemed permanent when really I simply lacked the strength.

The money I had was barely enough to sustain my growing need for food and water. I stopped moving aside while walking through crowds, the ever-decreasing amount of bruises on my shoulders vouched for my effect on the surrounding people. No one wanted to touch me. No one questioned my motives for traveling. No one cared. It was all so pathetic. It was so artificial.

As I left the village, my stomach's need for food a frustration that could simply be ignored for the time being, I felt my knees weaken. I slumped to the ground, my breath rising to hyperventilation. I clutched my head and began to scream and writhe in the dust. I reached out to the direction I'd come from but the village was far enough away that the people didn't see me... or if they did, they didn't care. I clutched at my body and tore at my robes and my hair. I don't know how much of my hair I tore from my head, but I do remember the blood that flowed into my left eye afterward.

I stopped by a river after my madness subsided and gasped in horror. In my madness I'd wrenched so much hair from my head that I now had a bare patch on the left side of the part. I touched my hand to it in terror. It would grow back... at least that was what I'd hoped. I managed to comb my hair over the spot using only my reflection in the river as a guide.

All was silent. The bubbling stream lapped carelessly along its course. A bird sang. I panted for breath. I couldn't seem to draw in enough air. My lungs had begun to burn. I coughed and gagged into the river, collapsing with one arm dangling into the cold water. My vision blurred. I wondered if I was going to die. I suddenly realized... that even if I didn't die then, I still wouldn't obtain a pardon in the afterlife. My sins were too numerous and too great. I was soiled goods. My life was meaningless. As I lost consciousness, I truly did hope for death to come for me.

Death wasn't fair.

My nightmares chased me through psychotic landscapes of screams and blood. I awoke with a cry in a bed. I tried to remember where I was and what had happened. A young woman came into my room to ask if I was alright. That was when I remembered. I'd stayed at an inn to rest before going to speak with the Sanbutsushin, who I hoped had answers for me to help me find what had been taken from my master. My nightmares had brought me back to a time in my youth... I wasn't a child anymore... but for a moment, I wasn't so sure.

The young woman told me I'd been crying out in my sleep. I'd was being struck by madness less and less as I grew older so it was no surprise that this time the attack came in sleep. I realized I was holding my gun tightly. Just how many people had I killed during my fits? I didn't know. I didn't care. My heart didn't beat for anyone but myself, as wretched as I was.

As I traveled through the village en route to the temple of Shayouden I realized people were speaking about me. One of them noted that the look in my eyes was the look of a man who'd lost his soul. I wanted to ask him if he'd seen it, but then again, I didn't care anymore. I walked up the long stairway to the temple and was granted an audience with the Sanbutsushin. I was a Sanzo Priest... and they recognized that much. They knew my request before it even left my mouth... and they told me they would help... but only if I did something for them in return.

Not only this... but they told me before I could ever hope to become the rightful guardian of the Seiten Sutra I would have to become the guardian of the Maten Sutra. Then...

They told me I had to live up to the title that had been bestowed upon me.

My eyes widened as I felt the madness welling up within me in that moment. It threatened, just below the surface of my conscious, to explode into a rage of screaming agony. Four years. Four years and this was what I'd managed. They sent me to the temple of Keiunin to await further instruction. I went. What else could I do?

Keiunin was everything that could be expected from a holy temple. A fraud. I was greeted with open arms with empty praise. If they really knew who I was... they would have realized they'd been welcoming a monster into their home.

They gave me my own room to sleep in and they prepared meals for me. I tried to sleep... but the nightmares returned with a vengeance. I simply wasn't allowed a night's rest. The sweat running down my face had grown cold and I washed my face to erase the signs of weakness that had flowed from my eyes against my will. This was when I smelled it.

Tobacco. It shouldn't have been there... but it was.

I found an old man sitting on a window sill looking out over the courtyard... no, at the moon. After a moment, I realized he wanted to speak with me. Simply working over my hatred of mankind was hard enough... but I managed to tell him off for insinuating that I was a ghost from the moon by throwing it back in his face.

He laughed it off. I hadn't heard laughter in a long time. I'd forgotten how. He asked me to join him for a smoke and a drink. I refused both. He thought I was odd when he was the one smoking and drinking in a place of worship.

...like someone else I once knew.

The next day I was brought to meet the Grand Priest Jikaku... and I was shocked to discover it was the same old man from the other night. To think that this man held such a high place in rank... when by night he wore an entirely different face. It disgusted me and at the same time... admonished my own hypocritical actions.

That night my nightmares tortured me again and I awoke, gagging and coughing. I needed sleep so badly it was driving me insane. My madness was drawing ever-closer.. I could feel it. At any time I could be struck down by it and in that moment... who's to say who's life I would take? Who's blood would splash upon my face...

The old man was waiting for me once I got up. He was smoking on the window sill again. I told him his actions were contradictory as he'd told me he was smoking and enjoying the fresh air, which was idiotic. He told me I should smoke before saying it was wrong... that it might help me get rid of the wrinkle between my eyebrows. I wanted to throttle him for that one... but instead I simply stayed silent and watched the moon for a while longer before returning to my bed.

Before I even reached my bed, my knees gave out. I clutched my heart, feeling madness taking me. I gritted my teeth and drew my knees up to my chest, hiding my eyes from the light of the moon which shone through my window. The madness shook through me and I remained silent even as I was met with images of the people I'd killed... all of them screaming in agony and pain. The blood was everywhere. I did not sleep.

I spent my days in the hall, sitting before the mockery that was the great Buddha. I refused the meals, wanting the pain of starvation as it prevented me from becoming strong enough to cause damage during my fits. So long as I was weak, no one else would die by my hands... or so I thought.

I was bathing when I felt the madness hitting again. A monk nearby told me he'd be leaving my clothes out for me when my knees gave way. I needed to get him away from me. I didn't want to kill him in my fit. I screamed for him to stay the hell away from me, that I was fine, to just leave me. They did. I was left, naked, wet and freezing as I was wracked by madness. I hugged myself tightly and struggled to keep from crying out.

That night, I was never entirely free from my madness. I sat crossed legged on the floor and leaned against the wall... and as the light of the moon shone in I realized it was too bright to allow me to sleep... but if I slept, the nightmares woke me up. I hugged my knees and buried my face into my robe. I did not sleep.

The madness had just finished taking me when the monk opened my door the next day. My gun lashed out for him and had I not been almost finished my fit I wouldn't have been able to stop it. It would have killed him. But then I realized... no... the gun wasn't killing it was me. And my fit ended. The monk ran from my sight in terror and within moments the other monks knew of my actions.

I wanted out. I never wanted to be there anyway. I decided to leave in the night... but Jikaku stopped me. He sighed upon hearing that I was leaving, saying that my jaded eyes wouldn't have been able to see anything. So he and the Sanbutsushin were in league, huh? I felt the corners of my mouth rising for the first time in four years... into a grin. A terrible, painful grin. I felt my sins rising up my throat like vomit and I spewed it out upon him.

He had no idea how I'd been living for the past four years. How could he? He was some pampered idiot who didn't have to lift a finger! I was busy being ambushed at every turn, attacked again and again. I killed them all. Every single one who tried to stop me. I killed so many I lost count. I had to do it. They would have killed me if I hadn't killed them! I had to do it to survive! But... at the same time... I remember thinking how easy it was to take a life... and how that alone was driving me insane... how inviting the small barrel looked... and how cool and smooth it felt pressed against my temple.

Would death be better if I blew my brains out? Or would starving to death work better?

Then, Jikaku did something I wasn't expecting. He interrupted my little episode with a perverted innuendo.

"You're problem is you take it in too deep, that's why you're choking on it."

He was smoking at the same time, but still...

He compared life to a cigarette. Once it's lit its life span will soon disappear in a puff of smoke. When you try to hold on to it you inhale too deeply and your lungs fill with smoke. As time passes, your lungs become black and become your sin.

He threw the cigarette package at me. I began to refuse but he interrupted me. He asked me what being in life doesn't reek of blood... and that the stench of blood I suffer through each day... was the same blood flowing in my veins.

I watched him in disbelief as he headed back to his room. I left the temple, not planning on returning.

I climbed a hill, stopping once I reached the top. I made a campfire and sat with my back against a tree, staring into the fire. I drew my knees up to my chest and hugged my legs.. Then I shifted my position and crossed my arms on my knees. Nothing worked. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't. As I started into the hypnotic tongues of flame my mind became to act out a play before my eyes.

I saw myself as a child, trying to get my master to release me from a binding spell which kept me firmly rooted behind him. He was in pain, blood was dripping from his mouth and from a wound on his chest. He turned to talk to me amidst his gritting of teeth and struggling to hide his pain. He asked me if I knew why all Sanzo wear their sutra on their shoulders... then explained it was to symbolize our taking on of the world's sins. He then told me that he knew I would see to his sending off... so long as I didn't lose my way. His last words were...

_I'm leaving the rest to you now, Genjo Sanzo._

I snapped out of my morbid musings upon hearing an alarm. I turned and saw smoke rising from Keiunin... it was under attack. I felt my heart drop into my stomach. Why would Keiunin be attacked unless...

Unless the attackers were looking for me.

I ran. It was hard to run. I don't know how I managed to run, but I did. For days I hadn't slept or eaten, and yet I suddenly found strength. I ran through the village and back to the temple, the smoke and light from the sight ahead growing brighter with every passing moment. When I finally arrived... it was only to see a splash of blood. Jikaku has been stabbed through the chest by the blade of his attacker... but he'd taken his attacker down with him, using only his bare hand.

He wobbled and sat down with his back to a tree and lit up a cigarette. He was bleeding from the mouth... he was going to die. There had been nothing I could do to save him. He said he was fine and that age must have been catching up with him as he could take down punks like his attacker without breaking a sweat in his early days. I suggested it was the cigarettes. What he said next... I won't ever forget. He said I was the splitting image of Koumyou... and that if I'd been carrying the weight for so long... then shouldn't I have gotten used to it by now. Finally... he said...

_I'm leaving the rest to you now Genjo Sanzo._

He reminded me not to forget to help him stub out his cigarette... then died.

The madness took me with a vengeance I hadn't felt since losing Koumyou. A grin spread upon my face, masking the pain I felt. And I began to laugh... it hurt to laugh. I didn't think I remembered how to laugh. The sound was unnatural coming from someone like me... but this laughter was not sane. My madness had chosen laughter as its voice... then it vanished, and I could see clearly for the first time in ages.

I killed the bandits one after another, moving amidst them with lightning speed, striking from every direction. None of them could help me with finding out more about the location of the Seiten Sutra... so I shot and killed them. I turned to the remainder and spoke.

"If I **have** to live this life... then live it I shall! Even if it means taking **yours** to do it!"

As I continued my assault, the monks whispered amongst themselves... and I heard the name of Kouryuu leave the lips of one of them. He knew who I was... the river orphan with golden hair and amethyst eyes... eyes which could pierce right into a man's soul... like staring into the eyes of the devil himself.

The next day, the Sanbutsushin finally gave me my orders. I would be taking over the Keiunin Temple for Jikaku as Toa Priest Genjo Sanzo the 31st... and that night, I drank my first taste of sake...

...and extinguished the life of Kouryuu as I lit the life of Genjo Sanzo, took a long drag, and exhaled with a contented sigh.


End file.
